


Analyze This

by TheWrtrInMe



Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWrtrInMe/pseuds/TheWrtrInMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sam and Freddie didn't break up in iLove You? What if they never got on that elevator? Would things have been happy all around? Probably...but that's about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Face Facts

 "Come on Sam, please?"

"No Carly, I'm not doing it!"

"But Sam, it'll only take like fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes, tops."

"What's up people?" Freddie walked into Carly's bedroom and over to the loveseat where his girlfriend was laying. Even with rumpled hair, still in her pajamas, she was the prettiest girl he knew. "Hey cuteness." He leaned over the loveseat, grazing his lips across hers. She tasted like pancake syrup. "So what's up with you two?"

"I'm trying to get your girlfriend to help me with my homework."

"And I'm trying to tell her it ain't gonna happen."

"Wait a minute Carly, you're trying to get  _Sam_  to help with homework?" He dodged the pillow Sam threw at his head.

"Yes," Carly said, "and I need your help too."

"What's the assignment?" he asked, flopping down on the sofa.

Carly turned to Freddie, rolling her eyes at her uncooperative best friend. "We have to write a paper for my health class and we've been studying 'Marriage and Family,' so I decided to do my paper as an analysis on couple compatibility."

"So ask Spencer and his nanny to help you," Sam groaned.

"She was his girlfriend, not his nanny – and they broke up over a month ago. Now come on you guys…you have to help me!"

Sam looked over at Freddie. She knew he was waiting on her to respond.

"Ugh, fine." She threw a pillow at Carly who ducked away. "What do we have to do?"

Carly pulled out her laptop smiling at her two friends.

"It's simple. Freddie, you go downstairs. While you're gone I'm going to ask Sam a series of questions. Once I'm finished with her, she'll go downstairs and you'll come up here and answer the same questions."

"That's it?" Freddie asked.

"Yep. That's all you have to do."

"And what are you gonna do with our answers?" Sam knew this had to have a catch.

"Oh, I just enter them into the program I found online and it will tell me how compatible you are. Then I'm just going to write a paper about it. See? I told you it was easy!"

"So that's gonna tell you if we're supposed to be together or not?" Sam didn't like the sound of that.

"Don't sweat it, baby," Freddie leaned over and whispered into her ear. "I don't need a test to tell me you're perfect for me." Drawing her face to his, he gave her a kiss that lingered much longer than Carly was probably comfortable with.

"Hello! I'm sitting right here," Carly laughed. She'd pretty much gotten used to it at this point. Sam and Freddie spent almost as much time kissing as they did fighting these days. "Now get out of here Romeo, so I can get started."

Sam groaned and reluctantly released the grasp she had on the front of Freddie's shirt, waving as he walked out the door.

"Alright Carls, let's get this over with." Sam sat cross legged, rubbing her eyes.

"Okay, so I'm going to ask a question and give you the answer options. You just tell me which one fits the best. Got it?"

"Doesn't sound like rocket science."

"Right. First question, We say we love each other – A. Frequently, B. Sometimes, or C. Never?"

"Um…never."

Carly looked up from the laptop. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"You've never told Freddie you love him?"

"No, why, is that weird or something?"

"Uh...yeah! You've been together for like two months."

"And…"

"And, that's the longest relationship either of you has ever had."

"So?"

"So, don't you love him?"

"Is that one of the questions?"

"No."

"Then…moving on."

"Sam…"

"I'm serious Carly. I can either answer your questions, or you can psychoanalyze me. Your choice."

"Fine." Carly said in a huff. "But we are talking about this later."

"Meah.."

"Next question. When it comes to our interests we have – A. Most things in common, B. Some things in common, or C. Very little in common"

"C. Very little." She pointed a finger of warning at Carly. "And no comments from you…next question."

"When I comes to my partner's family I – A. See them as my family, B. Generally get along with them, or C. Never get along with them."

"D. They make me want to poke my eyes out with a fork."

"Sam!"

"Fine. Um, C. Never get along." She looked over at Carly, who didn't look shocked at all. "We all know Crazy hates me."

"True. Next question. My partner and I argue – A. Often, B. Sometimes, C. Rarely." She looked at Sam, "You don't have to answer that one." She said, turning back to her keyboard, "The answer is A. Often."

"Hey!"

"What? You and Freddie argue all the time!"

"No we don't," Sam murmured.

"Really? You barged into my room at three in the morning last month so I could settle your fight about whose mother was craziest. It's your mother, by the way."

"Yeah, but…we didn't argue at all today!"

"He was here for like five minutes!" Carly laughed, "Now can we move on?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…go ahead. Next question."

They went on like that for another ten minutes. Some of the questions were funny and some were serious but they all had one thing in common: they were making Sam increasingly uncomfortable. She hadn't seen the results of Carly's little test yet, but she was pretty sure she wasn't going to like them. By the time Carly got to the last question of the test, Sam found herself wishing she'd never agreed to this.

"Alright Sam, this is the last one. When considering a future with my partner, we, A. Want the same things, B. Want similar things, or C. Want different things."

Sam stared at her nails. This was the worst one yet.

"Sam?"

"I'm thinking." Sighing she lay back over the armrest, dangling her hair over the side.

The future was something she tried really hard not to think about. Since the N.E.R.D. camp incident, Freddie had talked to her about why getting in had been so important. Some of the brightest minds and most important people in the technical world had gone there. If he got in it would be that much easier to get into N.I.T., and an acceptance at N.I.T. was the like the golden key that would unlock his dreams.

She had no doubt he could do it. Freddie's brain was more computer than human, and she was more than a little impressed with the boy's genius. He could do anything he wanted to. Right now what he wanted was to be with her but she knew the days of that being a priority were drawing rapidly to a close. Freddie had goals – big ones. And even though they still had over a year until graduation, he was already working on making those dreams come true.

She wanted that for him, still felt bad for sabotaging his application, although he'd been able to convince them to give him another shot. It was just hard to see someone she cared about so much making plans that were going to take him away from her. N.I.T., was on the East Coast, which might as well have been another country to her. She'd never see him, and sometimes she wondered if they'd end up being that couple that tried and tried to make something work but was doomed from the start.

She hadn't really talked to Freddie about it. When he'd asked her what she wanted to do when they graduated she'd just cracked a joke and said she might become a roadie for CuttleFish. He hadn't thought that was funny; someone with dreams as big as his wouldn't. So while she was pretty sure that she wanted a future with Freddie, she really had no idea how they were going to make that happen – or if he even wanted the same thing.

"Ugh," Sam groaned. "C. We…want different things." She lay back against the pillows, waiting on Carly to respond. She was met with silence. "So?"

"So what?" Carly looked up from her keyboard.

"So what's the verdict?"

"Oh, well I won't know until Freddie gives me his answers."

Sam stood and stretched. "Well, let me go get the nub so we can get this chizz over with." She headed downstairs and found Freddie and Spencer staring at the television watching 'Celebrities Underwater'. Spencer was leaning over his knees laughing while Freddie stared at the screen in horror.

"Dude! This isn't funny! I don't think she's breathing!"

"She's fine! They're not gonna let TV's Betty White die on national tele…" he looked up at the screen and his eyes went wide, "Oh…I think you're right. Come on Betty!" he screamed, "don't go into the light!"

Sam walked over to the fridge, searching for something to fill her stomach and help her forget what Carly had just put her through. She felt a hand on her back and turned around to see Freddie's face smiling down at her.

"Test all done?"

"My part is…it's your turn." She pulled a container of meatballs out and set them on the kitchen island.

"You don't look so happy."

"I'm fine." She said, through a mouth full of meatball. She didn't meet his eyes. If she did, he'd know something was wrong and she wasn't in the mood to discuss it.

"You sure?"

"Freddie!" she said, frustrated with his inability to leave well enough alone. Her face softened when she saw him flinch. "Carly's waiting for you."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, wiping spaghetti sauce off of his lips as he stood back up. "When I get done you wanna go catch a movie?"

"Sure, sure." She said, waving him away.

"NO!" Spencer yelled.

Sam turned to see Spencer on his knees, hands on either side of the television. "Betty, don't leave us! We love you!"

Sam shook her head and continued munching on her meatballs. She was used to Spencer being crazy; it was when he acted normal that she worried. Across the room near the computer monitor a light flashed on the network printer as it started spitting out pages. Probably something for Carly.

Sam stabbed a fresh meatball with her fork and walked over to the printer, pulling off the pages, leaving red sauced fingerprints on the sides. Rolling her eyes at Spencer, who was now dancing in celebration that Betty White had made it through her close call, she started walking toward the stairs, reading as she went. What she read stopped her in her tracks.

**Couple Compatibility Results**

**Results in each category listed as: Highly Compatible, Compatible, Slightly Compatible, Incompatible.**

**Communication Skills: Incompatible**

**Emotional Attachment: Incompatible**

**Family: Incompatible**

**Future: Incompatible**

**Final Analysis: This couple is incompatible. With limited communication skills, low emotional attachment, resistance to family integration, and separate future goals, the likelihood of a successful relationship is improbable.**

_Incompatible._

The room felt suddenly too small, too warm, too bright. The meatball she was holding was now making her nauseous and more than anything, she just wanted to get away. From this room, from Freddie, from everything.

A door at the top of the stairs opened and she panicked at the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

"Sam!"

It was Freddie. She couldn't see him now. Looking at the stairs and then down at the papers she did the only thing she could think of. Without even grabbing her bag or knowing how she was going to get home, she dropped the papers and ran for the door.

"Sam?" Spencer called after her, "Where are you going?"

"Not now Spencer…I just have to go." She flung open the door and ran into the hall, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Running out into the humid Seattle morning, she didn't look behind her as she took off for home. She only prayed that no one would follow her.


	2. Will you be there?

 

"Sam?" Freddie walked down the stairs to find Spencer staring at the front door as it slammed shut. "Spencer, where's Sam?"

Spencer turned around and looked at Freddie. "Um…she just left. Carrying a giant fork with a meatball on the end. And you guys say  _I'm_  weird."

Freddie frowned at the door, "Well, did she say where she was going?"

"Nope. Just dropped those papers and took off."

Freddie walked to the bottom of the stairs and gathered the papers. He looked over at the printer and saw it was empty. This must be what Carly sent him down to get, along with Sam – who was now nowhere to be found. Papers in hand, he took the stairs two at a time, not looking down at the papers until he walked back into Carly's room.

"Oh no," he said, staring at the papers as he walked slowly into Carly's room.

"What is it?" Carly said, turning from the vanity where she was brushing her hair. Seeing the papers in Freddie's hands and the look on his face, she knew. He'd read the results.

"Freddie…" she tried lending a calming tone to her voice as she walked toward him. "It's just a stupid test. It doesn't mean anything."

"Tell that to Sam!" he said, his voice loud as he shook the papers in the air.

"Where is she?" Carly sat down on the love seat opposite him. "I thought you went down to get her?"

"I did, but she must have seen these results before I could get them off the printer because by the time I got down there,  _these_  were scattered on the floor and  _she_  was out the door!" He groaned and put his head in his hands. "This is bad Carly, like really, really bad." He looked up at her "Why in the world did you ask her to take that test!"

"You said yes too!"

"Only because she did! You knew I'd say yes if she did!"

The room was quiet, both of them considering the implications of the situation. Freddie pulled out his phone and tried to call Sam. Once, twice, three times. Every call he made went straight to voicemail. He fired off a text message while Carly fell against the back of the love seat.

"So you think she saw it?" Carly asked when he'd finished. Freddie nodded. "Are you sure? Maybe she just had to leave…suddenly…without telling us."

"No, she saw it. Look…" he offered the paper to Carly. "There's even a tomato sauce thumbprint on it."

"Meatballs."

"Yeah. Spencer said he saw her leaving the house with one in her hand."

Carly nodded toward Freddie's outstretched hand. "Did you read them?"

"Yeah. I did."

"So…"

"I don't know Carly. I guess it's like you said. It's just a stupid test."

Carly's voice was quiet as she looked at the results. She'd seen them already on her computer and honestly she hadn't been shocked, but she was surprised at Sam's reaction to it. Freddie and Sam were as different as any two people she'd ever met, but she could tell they really cared about each other, and somehow they'd been able to make it work – so far.

"Right." She said quietly.

"And, I mean, the results aren't really a shock are they?"

"No. Not really."

"So it's not a big deal, right?"

"Right."

"What do we care what some stupid test says about us, right?"

"Right."

"Right." Freddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But…I don't know Carls. It still just, it doesn't feel good. To have something or someone say that Sam and I…that we aren't meant to be together. Even if it is just a stupid test."

"Hurts, huh?"

Freddie nodded, but said nothing. He'd run out of words at this point. Besides, if he was going to talk about this, Carly wasn't the one he needed to be talking to. He needed to talk to Sam, and he would. Just as soon as he figured it out himself.

"I gotta go, Carly."

"Going to find Sam?"

"Yeah…I'm just gonna let her cool off first."

"Freddie, don't you think you should go find her now. I mean, if she was upset enough to storm out of here without even telling us then she must be pretty hurt too. You should…"  
"Carly, no offense but…just let me handle this my way, okay?" he walked toward the door, "I think you've done enough."

Carly flinched as the bedroom door slammed behind him. All she wanted was to get a good grade on her paper. Not ruin her best friends' lives.

What had she done?

* * *

Freddie walked into his bedroom, grateful that his mother was at work. He wasn't in the mood to field any questions from her about the reason for his mood. Throwing his keys down on the nightstand, he fell face first onto his bed, groaning.

What a mess.

He'd gotten up today, after a long night spent video chatting with Sam, looking forward to spending the day with her. Last night they'd had a fight, not an uncommon occurrence. This time it had been about her irritation over him asking her if she'd finished her homework. He only asked to see if she needed any help, which would have given him an excuse to spend a few hours alone with her in either her bedroom or his. Those hours usually started with homework but ended with tangled limbs, bruised lips and a very happy Freddie. But to Sam, his insistence on monitoring her academic progress was annoying. She'd never been much for school and homework, but since she and Freddie had started dating he'd tried to help her stay on track. They only had a little over a year until graduation and he wanted her to have the best chance at getting into a decent college. Plus, one of the many stipulations his mother had placed on her approval of their relationship was that Sam stay out of trouble and both of them keep their grades up. He didn't want to give his mother a reason to complain.

Sam had told him directly to lay off. He'd gotten upset at how she was talking to him and told her so. She'd asked him when he'd decided to grow a set. He said she was just mad that he wasn't letting her keep his 'set' in a Mason jar like the other yahoos she'd dated. The argument had been heated. They'd both said things they shouldn't and she'd cut off the chat without saying goodbye. Afterwards, as usual, he was mad at himself for getting so upset and for talking without thinking. His monitor had started blinking as Sam initiated another chat.

" _Hey nub."_

" _Hey."_

" _So…" Sam was waiting for him to apologize. He was sorry, but his pride was still too big to make the first move._

" _Something you want to say?" he asked._

" _Is there something you want to say?"_

_They sat in silence. Sam was even more stubborn than he was. This was one area of their relationship that hadn't changed too much since their days as frenemies. He looked into the monitor. Sam was sitting at her desk and her room was a typical mess behind her. Unmade bed, books strewn over it. He smiled at that – she'd been doing homework. He looked at her face. She was staring intently at something on the desk, biting at her bottom lip. She only did that when she was nervous. She was adorable when she was nervous. His heart started in on the rapid beating that only the sight of her brought. She was beautiful and he was the idiot crazy enough to waste time fighting with her._

" _I'm sorry!" they blurted out at the same time._

They dissolved into laughter. And that was the end of it. Some people might comment on how often they fought, but those people never really saw how easily they made up. He couldn't stay mad at her – not for long; staying mad meant being without her. That had been hard when they were just friends but now that she was his girlfriend, it wasn't even an option. He wanted Sam in his life and he was pretty sure at this point that she felt the same way. He didn't want to risk that. For anything.  
That's what made this whole compatibility test thing so…devastating. He could handle them fighting over concrete things. She talked with her mouth full. He was a little OCD. She took his school notes and forgot to return them. He got jealous when guys looked at her. These were things they could fix, that they could change – eventually. But compatibility? What could he do about that? The test was based on their honest answers about things that weren't really concrete. How could he fix the fact that their families were so different, that what they wanted in life was so different, that  _they_  were so different?

He didn't have an answer for that. Which is why he was laying here, with a headache, worrying about it instead of on his way to reassure his girlfriend that the test results meant nothing.

Because, what if they didn't? What if the test was right and they were just fooling themselves, trying to force a relationship that wasn't really going to work?

He groaned and pulled himself to a seated position, reaching for his phone. Still no word from Sam.

"Come on Sam," he said to himself. "Call me, damn it!" It was a waste of time, talking to himself. He knew Sam. If she was upset there was no way she was going to call him. She'd wait until he was a nervous wreck and she was calm enough to ensure she wouldn't cry in front of him. Sam hated crying in front of people, even Freddie. It was a rare occasion when she did it – she thought it made her look weak. Since they'd been dating it had only happened once; and he'd never forget it.

 

_Sam had been missing from school all day and by the time the last bell rang Freddie was frantic. He'd told Carly he was going to her house and when she'd offered to come along, he'd declined. He and Sam had only been a couple for a month and he was still trying to get Carly to ease up on the stranglehold she had on Sam and let him have a chance to take care of her too. It hadn't been easy, but they were slowly finding their way from being a trio of friends to a trio that contained a couple. No easy feat._

_He made it to Sam's house in record time, thanks to his mother letting him drive the car to school and him breaking the speed limit most of the way. Knocking on the door he prayed both that Sam's mom wouldn't be home and that Sam would answer the door. He got what he wanted but had no time to celebrate as shock settled in when he saw her._

_She was wearing rumpled pajamas and her face was swollen, her cheeks tear streaked._

" _Sam?" He walked in without an invitation and squinted inside the darkened house. "Baby, what's wrong?"_

" _Hey." she sniffled. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"_

_"School let out over an hour ago." She walked toward her living room and he wondered if she'd even heard him. He stood in the doorway staring at her as she curled up on the sofa, wrapping a blanket around her. On the table beside her was an empty container of chocolate ice cream, a half empty bag of Fadoodles and several crumpled Fat Cake wrappers. On the floor a bottle of Peppy Cola had turned over and was now lying as a brown puddle by the coffee table._

" _Well, are you gonna sit down or just stand there staring at me all day?" Her words didn't have their usual bite. Something was definitely wrong. And then he noticed something. Every time he'd been here there was always an oddly lumpy mass at her feet. Frothy. That cat hated everyone, except Sam._

" _Where's your rabid cat?"_

_Sam looked up at him and then down at her hands, her face crumpled and she started to cry without a sound. That was the worst sort of crying – when the pain was too great to make any noise. He rushed over and gathered her in his arms, slipping in behind her on the sofa, letting her lay her head on his chest._

" _Sam?" he said, as her tears began to taper off. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Frothy?"_

" _He's gone."_

" _Gone? He ran away? Well, don't worry. We'll make posters and hang 'em up around the neighborhood and if you want I'll go out with you and look for him. It'll be fine. I'm sure he's just…"_

" _Dead."_

" _What?"_

" _He's dead, Freddie." She started crying again. "I woke up this morning and he wasn't on my bed." She turned to look at Freddie, "You know he always sleeps on my bed. So I came downstairs and he wasn't down here so I went outside and called him and then I looked in the street and…he was just lying there. Someone hit him. Just hit him and left him in the street." Her tears started fresh._

_Freddie didn't know what to say. He'd never been much of an animal person. They were strictly forbidden by his mother – disease, ticks, and smells were just a few of the million reasons she'd given for never letting him have a pet. And he'd never really been a fan of Frothy, a feeling that had been mutual. But he knew what Frothy meant to Sam. She really loved that cat, for reasons Freddie had never understood. Losing him had to be hard on her._

_He reached down and smoothed the hair from her forehead, placing a kiss there. He lay back on the sofa, bringing her to lay with him and just let her cry, rubbing circle on her back, reassuring her that everything would be fine._

_After a while her sobs softened to sniffles and eventually she grew quiet._

" _Sorry about your shirt," she said, looking at the wet spot her tears had made._

" _It's just a shirt. Are you feeling better?"_

_She laid her head against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "I'm still sad, but, having you here…that makes me feel a little better. Thank you."_

" _For what?"_

" _For being here."_

" _You don't have to thank me for that. Ever."_

_She laughed, "How'd you get Carly not to come with you?"_

" _I told her I could handle it."_

" _And that worked?"_

_It was Freddie's turn to laugh. "Probably not…she probably followed me and is hiding in the bushes outside your house."_

_She'd laughed then, a genuine Sam laugh and it made his heart soar. He'd done that. When he'd arrived she'd been sad and now she was laughing, because of him. He wanted to be able to do that for her forever._

_  
_

He still wanted that. He wanted to be the one that made Sam feel better when no one else could. The one who would be there for her when she wouldn't let anyone else in. He'd promised himself he would be that person. He couldn't stop now. That test hadn't told them anything they didn't already know. But there were something's the test couldn't measure.

Standing from the bed he walked over to his computer. He had a plan. Sam was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. And he didn't intend to let  _anything_  make him let that go.


	3. Perfectly Imperfect

Sam's phone was buzzing. It was the last sound she'd heard before drifting off into a fitful, dream-filled sleep. Maybe dream wasn't the right word. She'd had a nightmare. The kind that leaves a thin film of dread and anxiety covering everything even after you're awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked over at her phone.

The caller was one of three people: her mother calling to say she would be home late or not at all, Carly to apologize again for how the test had turned out, or Freddie. She picked up the phone and groaned, setting it back down on the nightstand.

Freddie.

He'd been calling and texting every hour on the hour since she'd left Carly's house. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet so she was doing what she did best, avoiding an uncomfortable situation by pretending it didn't exist. But his constant calls were making that difficult. She knew she would have to talk to him eventually – there was no way he'd let something like this go undiscussed, but she wanted to put it off for as long as possible. Avoiding the inevitable.

Damn Carly and her stupid test. As soon as Carly had said 'compatibility,' Sam knew that taking it was a bad idea. It wasn't that the results had shocked her. The set of random questions just confirmed what she already knew. She and Freddie were like Fat Cakes and carrots, as different as it was possible to be. But it wasn't something she thought about that often. They hadn't been together long but they'd somehow found a way to make it work in spite of it all. Their differences were there, but they existed on the sidelines of the relationship. So even if she'd known it in her heart, even if that truth had caused more arguments between them than she could count, for some reason seeing right in front of her in black and white had made it real. Too real.

_ Incompatible. _ That's what the results said.

_ This couple is not meant to be and should not under any circumstances be allowed to date. There's a greater chance for peace in the Middle East than there is of these two idiots making it work. Get out now before it's too late. SAVE YOURSELVES! _

That's what it might as well have said.

Her phone buzzed again, signaling a text message. Reaching for it, she scanned the message quickly.

_ Freddie: Call me so we can talk. _

_ Freddie: Can you come over here? Can I come there? I just want to see you. _

Sam fell back against her pillows, her breath coming out in a rush. Every time he'd texted her she'd held her breath, certain that it would say what she didn't want to hear. That the person she'd fought so hard to be with was serving her walking papers.

She hadn't been in many relationships. There was Jonah, the scumbag who ended up liking Carly. Then there was Shane, and after she and Carly fought over him she'd lost interest. And who could forget Pete, the very cute, very dumb jock she'd been obsessed over. That had lasted as long as it took her to discover that all he ever talked about was video games and football, and that he had the personality of a soap dish. She hadn't been sad to see that end. She'd never really been sad to see any of those relationships end. Freddie was different.

There were plenty of guys who'd been interested in her over the years, but Freddie was the first one who actually listened when she talked and looked at her face instead of her boobs (most of the time). It had taken her a long time to believe it, but at this point she knew that he really cared about her. He cared if her homework was done or if she'd eaten. He cared enough not to let her walk home alone in the dark, even if they both knew she'd be the one fighting off whoever might attack them. Over seven years of being enemies, then friends, and then more, he'd taken the time to really get to know her. He understood her in a way that no one else did, including Carly. And unlike Carly – who usually seemed preoccupied with 'fixing' Sam, Freddie just took her as she was. He didn't try to change her or make her a better person, and that made her want to _be_ a better person.

She'd never have guessed it in the beginning, but what she had with Freddie was actually pretty good most of the time. They fought, but they'd learned the beauty of making up. She liked him, thought she might even love him – though she'd never said the words. That's what made this so hard. She'd just gotten used to him being here. Just started to believe that, at least for the moment, he wasn't going anywhere. What if wanted this to be over? What if he thought the test was right, right enough to end this? She might be confused right now, but there was one thing she was entirely sure of. She didn't want it to be over.

She sat up, her knuckles white as she gripped the side of her bed. She looked over at the clock. It was almost two o'clock; three hours since 'the incident'. She was surprised Freddie hadn't shown up at her house yet. There wasn't much time to consider why as the sound of her doorbell ripped through the silence of the house. She knew who it was – didn't even need to peek through the blinds to see the porch below. Her hands were shaking as she considered her options. She could sit here and ignore the door until he went away. That wouldn't work. Freddie was persistent, especially when he felt the need to talk about something. He knew she was here – she'd texted Carly around noon just to let her know she'd made it home okay, and Freddie was probably the first person Carly called to report that information. She could go downstairs, fling the door open and tell him to get lost. That wouldn't work either. He'd gotten really good and not taking no for an answer.

She sighed and stood from the bed. Time to face the music.

The doorbell was ringing again by the time she flung open the door to reveal Freddie, leaning against the door frame.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey."

"I've been calling you."

"I know."

"And texting."

"I saw that."

"So why haven't you answered?"

"I've been busy." She said walking into the house, the sound of his heavy footsteps following her.

She stood in the hallway trying to decide where to have this conversation. Most of the rooms in her house were filled with some memory of their time together. The living room, where he'd held her all afternoon as she cried her eyes out over Frothy.

Nope.

The kitchen, where an attempt at homemade pizza-baking had turned into an all-out food fight and she'd gotten her first glimpse of the wonder that was Freddie's abs as he removed his tomato sauce-covered shirt.

Another no.

Her bedroom where…she really didn't want to think of all the things that had happened in that bedroom. It was the place they first learned how great making up could be.

Bad idea.

She settled on the hallway and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So…" she said

"So what?" Freddie asked, looking genuinely confused.

"So say what you came to say and get it over with."

"Sam…what do you _think_ I came here to say?"

"Let's not do this Freddie. You saw the results. I saw the results. You said we need to talk and we both know what that talk is gonna be about." She sighed in frustration as he continued to look at her like she had three eyes. "Okay, let me help you. You say 'Sam the test says we aren't compatible' then I say 'No shit Sherlock' then you tell me not to curse and you say 'I think it's best to just end this now' and I say…"

Freddie rolled his eyes, grabbed her hand and started toward the stairs.

"Freddie…what the hell are you doing? Let go of me!"

"Shut up, Sam."

She was so shocked her mouth hung open as she trailed behind him into her bedroom. He sat her down on the bed and turned the desk chair around to face her, sitting down and leaning over on his knees.

"Now, I just want you to sit there quietly and hear me out."

"I don't want to hear you out! I want to _see_ you out…of my house!"

Freddie reached over and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide and a series of muffled expletives filled the room.

"Sam, we can do this the hard way or the easy way, but either way you're going to listen to what I have to say." He looked at her, a hint of a smile on his face. "Now, are you ready to be calm?" She sighed and shook her head. He removed his hand slowly and sat back in the chair.

"Your hand tastes like Perma-Gel," she said, wiping her tongue on the sleeve of her shirt.

"You shouldn't have licked it." Reaching into his back pocket he removed a folded slip of paper. Opening it he looked down at what was written there before looking back at Sam.

"You're crazy," he said, "like really, really crazy."

"So you came all the way over here to say I'm crazy?"

"Yep. And so am I. I realized it when I read those test results. And do you know what else I realized?" He looked back from the paper to her. "The test was right. We are completely different. You're stubborn. And sometimes you're lazy. Your room is always a mess. You call me names. You never let me hold the remote. You take my class notes and don't give them back. You hate my mother. You want be a roadie for Cuttlefish." His voice got quiet. "And you've never said you love me."

"Freddie…" Sam looked as he pulled a second piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Do you know what this is?

"I hope it's dental records because if you don't hurry up they're going to need them to identify your body!"

He was undeterred by the venom in her voice.

"This," He said, unfolding the paper. "Is all the reasons the test was wrong." He looked over at her, his eyes soft as he studied her face. "Your smile. I love that smile." He ran a finger over her bottom lip. "When you smile, I smile too, even if I'm having the world's worst day." He laughed, and continued. "You have a tiny freckle behind your ear and when I kiss it you giggle."

"I don't giggle," she murmured, trying not to smile.

"Yes you do. And it's adorable, now shut up and let me finish." She pretended to zip her lips and he continued. "You take my shirts so you can sleep in them. You pretend to be confused about computer stuff sometimes and you listen while I explain it to you - even though I know almost as much as I do. You stopped calling my mother crazy. Last week you let me have the last slice of pizza, even though it was your favorite kind." He glanced at Sam who was staring intently at her lap, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. "You let me see you cry when Frothy died. You always tell me there's nothing I can't do. You make me feel smart and strong and lucky just because you're in my life." He folded the paper back up and reached out to hold the hands the rested in her lap. "You taught me what it means to really love someone and how amazing it feels when they love you back. You've told me a million times in a million different ways that you love me – and you didn't even have to use words."

He placed a finger on her chin, raising her face so he could see her eyes. "Sam, when I read those results I was scared. Scared because I thought that maybe the people that made that test knew something that we didn't. Maybe they somehow knew that we didn't belong together and we were just fooling ourselves. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and I realized something. I realized that test is garbage, do you know why?" she shook her head. "Because I know something that they don't know. I know that I love you. Yes, we're different, we want different things, and we might not know what's gonna happen in our future. But I know that I love you now and that I want to love you for as long as you let me. That's all I need to know."

Sam sniffled, finally losing the battle with the tears stinging her eyes. She looked at him and asked the question she already knew the answer to.

"Did you mean that?"

"Every word." He raised two fingers in the air, "Scout's Honor."

She smiled her first genuine smile of the day. Grabbing both of his hands she pulled him from his chair and onto the bed beside her. "Good because I think you might be stuck with me for a while."

He didn't respond, just smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, her back to his chest. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the familiar scent of vanilla shampoo. She relaxed into his arms, running her fingers over the arms that held her tight.

"I love you." She whispered into the quiet room. She was met with the soft sound of Freddie snoring behind her. She snuggled down further into his arms, resting her head on a pillow. "Yeah, I know…you love me too."

She didn't fall asleep right away. She laid with him, listening to him breath, content just to be with him. The moment was almost perfect. Just like them.

Perfectly imperfect.

And that was okay with her.


End file.
